


What happens when outside of Vegas (stays outside of Vegas)

by Shamelessly_Radiant



Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: Episode: s2e21 The Vegas Renormalization, F/M, Food Sharing, Pre-Relationship, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23228629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamelessly_Radiant/pseuds/Shamelessly_Radiant
Summary: “Okay. Why do you that?” Penny asks. "I know you're perfectly capable of being considerate, so why are you so intentionally rude?"In answer, Sheldon starts arguing about psychology being a pseudo-science. Of course.(AU for The Vegas Renormalization)
Relationships: Sheldon Cooper/Penny
Comments: 9
Kudos: 210





	What happens when outside of Vegas (stays outside of Vegas)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dipping my toes in this new fandom.

“I’m sorry, that’s not going to interest me at all. Just eat.”

 _Seriously?_ Penny puts down her fork with a little more force than necessary, but Sheldon remains oblivious to her irritated stare.

“Okay. Why do you that?”

He looks up, blinking confusedly. “I’m sorry, why do I do _what_? Eat? The body, as tedious as it is, does require substance to function properly—”

“ _No,_ ” Penny says, deliberately interrupting him. “Why are you so intentionally rude? You send the boys to Vegas to cheer Wolowitz up, outside in the hall you talked to me like I was an actual human being, and then you come in here and suddenly it’s Robo-Sheldon 101 all over again. I know you’re capable of being considerate. So why do you do it? Is it a defensive thing or what? You don’t meet people’s expectations, so you adopt a prickly exterior on purpose?”

He answers after a beat, eye still twitching slightly. ”Psychology is really the worst kind of pseudo-science—”

“Ah!” Penny exclaims. “I give up.”

“Excuse me, _where_ are you going exactly?” Sheldon interjects as she starts gathering her meagre meal, “we’re in your apartment.”

“Don’t I know it,” Penny mumbles under her breath, not caring that he’ll probably understand it with his freaky hearing. In a normal tone, she continues: “I’m going to sit on the couch. Where I don’t have to see you.”

They pass about ten minutes in silence, when Penny’s traitorous stomach rumbles. As the manager had not only shifted but also cut their hours, Penny had lost part of the weekend shift which generally generated most tips and hadn’t had money to buy proper groceries for the week. She had eaten some leftovers at the Cheesecake factory at lunch but hadn’t been able to take some home for dinner. Sighing, she turns on the tv, hoping it will distract her from the hunger, as well from the fact that she can hear Sheldon rummaging in the kitchen. If he’s going to clean, she’s not going to stop him, but she also doesn't want to know.

“Penny.”

Penny turns the tv louder, trying to effectively block her annoying neighbour out.

“Penny,” Sheldon repeats again, slightly louder.

Up goes the volume again.

“Penny.”

“What, Sheldon, what?” Penny snaps, shutting off the tv and twisting around to look at him and see him standing right behind her— holding out a plate to her?

He thrusts the plate out further when she doesn’t immediately take it. It contains a generous serving of his meal, still with the same mouth-watering smell she noticed in the hallway. He sighs loudly when she still doesn’t take it. “I noticed your stomach rumbling. Contrary to popular opinion, this can also be due to digestive noises, but as I noticed you only ate some rice, I assume it means you’re hungry. I am offering you food to rectify that.”

She’s not going to cry. She’s not going to cry, damn it. “What happened to Joey doesn’t share food?”, she quips weakly.

“My name is _Sheldon_ ,” he says, and bless him, he sounds slightly hurt.

She huffs out a laugh, composing herself. “I know, sweetie. It was a reference to _Friends._ The tv-show?”

“I am unfamiliar. Will you take the plate? I hope I do not have to explain to you that the chemical integrity of the food will get corrupted if you need to warm it up—”

“No, no,” she says hurriedly, taking the plate and the cutlery he offers her. “Thank you, Sheldon,” she says, and she means it.

He nods slightly, walking around the sofa and hovering. “May I sit?”

“Yeah,” she says, stuffing her mouth with the food. It tastes even better than it smelled. “Mh, this is _so_ good. I should eat Indian food more often.”

“Penny,” he says, looking at her intently. “It occurs to me that we could add benefits to this friend situation—”

“ _What?”_ she spits out, nearly tipping the plate. It’s only Sheldon’s lightning quick reflexes that save it, his arm shooting out to balance the plate on her lap and _Sheldon’s hand is on her lap_. His knuckles are lightly brushing the inside of her knee, his blue eyes are focussed intensely on her, and she’d be lying if this hadn’t passed her mind once or twice since she met him, but this is _Sheldon_ , resident Doctor Wackadoodle, assumed to have no deal.

She takes control of the plate again, and he is slow to retreat his hand, though probably mostly because he doesn’t trust her with the proper equilibrium of the plate or whatever.

“As you are well aware, every third Thursday of the month has been declared henceforth as ‘Anything-can-happen-Thursday’. To Leonard, Wolowitz and Koothrappali this seems to imply going out to try and ‘score’, as Wolowitz says, with members of the opposite sex. As I have zero interest in doing this”— and _of course,_ what was Penny thinking anyways, and _why_ is she slightly disappointed? — “it occurs to me that we could make it Indian take-away day. This would seem to be mutually beneficial.”

“Oh, sweetie—” Penny wants to say she doesn’t know if she can make that commitment, that she has no idea what they would even talk about, but Sheldon looks so absurdly pleased with himself, that she finds she can do nothing but relent. “You know what? That sounds fun.”

It is only once a month, anyways. And he’s usually good company, if she looks past the hurtful condescension, which she’s mostly able to brush off anyways.

He gives her that little pleased smile of his and asks, “now, how was your day?”

“Oh my God. Sheldon, we’ve been over this. My life does not interest you; your life is too complicated for me to understand, blah blah.”

His voice sounds small when he says, “no, I want to listen. As they changed your hours at the Cheesecake factory, this perhaps implies changes to my schedule. Will you still be able to serve me my burger on Tuesdays? And will you still be able to attend Halo night? Or do your laundry Saturdays at 8.15?”

She figures this is the most apology she’ll have from him, and she takes it.

“Yes, sweetie. I’ll still be able to serve you your burger, play Halo and make laundry. It’s actually my week that got shifted a bit. My weekend hours got cut.”

**_._ **

Of course, that’s not to say that the rest of their evening goes off without a hitch. While they actually play a game that is not 3D chess or something else that she cannot win at (monopoly, though he keeps an incredulous running commentary about the economics and whatnot the whole time) when it is time to go to sleep his voice goes up almost an octave at the prospect of sleeping on the couch.

And damn it, Penny is tired, and dead on her feet, and she has taken enough naps on that couch to know she can sleep on it, and she does see how it would be particularly uncomfortable for someone Sheldon’s size to sleep on it, so she relinquishes her bed easily enough.

Only, it doesn’t go that easily.

“I can’t take your bed,” he says, eyes wide and of course this is the moment Mary Cooper’s gentlemanly upbringing makes itself known, “where will _you_ sleep?”

“On the couch, Sheldon.”

“I can’t kick you out of your bed,” he says.

“What do you propose then, sweetie? That we share?” and there’s no small amount of sarcasm in that sentence.

His eyes practically bulge out of their head.

 _Oh, come on, darling._ Penny imagines herself saying, all seduction and purring in her voice. _I don’t bite… much._ She would if she would not fear completely _breaking_ him.

“Take the damn bed, Sheldon.”

You know how it goes: they finally get installed; Sheldon gets homesick – “homesick is a kind of sick”— she sings him soft kitty, he thanks her and then promptly kicks her out of the room, only—

As she is sighing and standing up, his hand shoots up and grabs her wrist. And Penny, Penny does a double take. Because he’s touching her, _voluntarily,_ and his eyes are earnest on hers.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did. It’s okay though, sweetie.”

He draws her back to the bed and shifts so he’s no longer laying in the middle but almost completely on the edge. Penny follows, incredulous but tired enough to not pass up the unspoken offer of sleeping in her own bed.

She gets under the covers, gets comfortable on her side, closes her eyes—

“You know, scientific studies have shown that sleep hygiene and overall wellbeing are significantly improved when people sleep on their back instead of their side—”

“Sheldon,” she starts, conversationally. “I’m thinking of implementing a new rule. No talking in bed or I punch you in the throat, what do you think?”

“Well that is simply preposterous,” he stars, in that _tone_ of his. “Firstly, what if one was making an inquiry as ‘did you sleep well?’ or ‘can you turn off the light?’ as dictated by convention? Secondly, establishing a rule implies you expect this to happen often, for the rule not to be completely redundant, nay superfluous, nay _expendable_. Imagine that. A rule being expendable—”

Penny flips over so she can look at him. “Sheldon.” She repeats, this time infusing enough threat in her voice to carry the unspoken message of _If you don’t shut up right now, I’ll go junior rodeo on your ass,_ adding “Good Night.” Pointedly.

“Good night,” he mumbles after a pause, sounding uncharacteristically subdued.

Penny closes her eyes, satisfied at the prospect of a good night sleep. Oh, but if he _dares_ to wake her up at seven am tomorrow in the morning to argue about the fibre content of her cereals, he will feel the full extent of her wrath—

He reaches out and hesitantly tangles his fingers with hers.

Penny falls asleep with a slight smile on her face.

**_._ **

(Years later, her rules turn out to be neither redundant, superfluous nor expendable.

But that is a story for another time.)


End file.
